My Little Picasso's

My Little Picasso's

Wednesday, December 26, 2012


When your mum tells you to go check out the local bowling alley for the kids, you think sure.

When she tells you to go and sit at the bar and have a drink, you grab your car keys.

Do I need to say anything more about my day?

December 26th, 2012

Monday, December 17, 2012


Everyone grieves.  Everyone grieves in their own way.  My grief has begun.  I am not sure when it will end.  Tears constantly find themselves at the forefront of my pupils, spilling over and down my cheeks.  Max brought me his monkey Friday afternoon because I was crying.

All of us in this country are crying right now.  Crying for 20 precious little boys and girls who were the sparkle in their mother's and father's eyes.  They were innocent.  They were  angels.  They will never try out for the basketball team or the soccer team.  They will not have another dance recital or t-ball game.  Their graduation and college entrance is now just a thought that will never happen.  Marriage?  Children of their own; to be their sparkles.

The six adults who were brutally murdered as well, heroes in their own right, as they tried to protect these little babies are cried over just as much.  They were also someone's sparkle; someone's mother, someone's grandmother, someone's daughter.  They did what anyone in their "right" mind would do; protect the children.

But that leads us into another very relevant question.  I am fully for MUCH MORE EXTENSIVE gun control, SPECIFICALLY the devices themselves, but is it not evident now that we must open the discussion concerning the mental health of our citizens.  Is the care that is needed there?  If it, meaning someone's mental health status, is ever questioned, the help MUST be available.  Without question, it must be available, insurance or not.

I am writing from the standpoint of a mother of two young boys first and foremost.  They are my life, my existence.  I live for my family.  My patience has a million times over grown this past weekend.  They can do no wrong in my eyes.  Extra hugs, stolen kisses, extra Hershey Kisses, and later bed times.

But I also write as a teacher.  I have been a teacher since 2011.  My first true experience as not just a teacher but a counselor, mother, shoulder to cry on, bad word receiver, and so forth began with 9/11.  It has not stopped.  I have taught hundreds of students over the years between the ages of 11 and 15 and I would be lying if I did not say that some of the students have made me nervous.  There are always the ones that will test your patience, make you question your life career, give you grey hair.  But there are also the ones who make you a bit nervous.  Who you make sure to follow as they go down the hall.  Who keep to themselves and want to be left alone.  There are the ones who cling to you for attention, do the wrong thing for attention, do not want your attention, or will not admit it.  I have over 500 students right now.  I teach 57 of them in my classroom, but I am liable and responsible, just as all the other teachers are, for each and every one of them.  Would I push them into a cabinet, behind a closed door, barricade us in?  Ofcourse I would.  Because that is what we do.  First and foremost we take care of children.

The 57 sparkles on my classroom rosters know what I would do for them.  I know what they would do for me.

But we pray that nothing like this will ever happen again.  But mom's and dad's, we will protect your sparkles.  We are teachers.

December 17th, 2012

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

morning wake-up calls

Max still wakes up at night.  Once, always once.  Luckily he goes back to sleep, but it takes me going to the couch with him for him to go back to sleep.  I know I am wrong, but when it is the middle of night and I'm tired, I'll do what is needed to get him to go to sleep.

A friend, who will remain nameless, says I should sedate him.  Hmmm...

My sister says there is some kind of "sleepy time clock" that shows a night theme, when a child is to stay in bed, and a day theme for ... you guessed it, when they can get up.  Clever!

Well, last night, already on the couch with Max, Charlie started.  He screamed.  So off I go and get him, and he is awake.  He is up.  No back to sleep for him.  Atleast I thought he was asleep at one time.  Warm and snuggly with me.  Oh no, wait.  It was only him peeing on me and our couch.

I'm awake.

And this is how my day began.  4:17 am.

December 11th, 2012